


Master Rey

by velocita12



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bottom Kylo Ren, Dom/sub, Dominatrix Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Light BDSM, Mildly Dubious Consent, Submissive Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27988503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocita12/pseuds/velocita12
Summary: After the events of The Last Jedi, Rey and Kylo Ren run into each other while both are on a quest to rebuild their broken lightsabers. To both of their surprise, they hook up. Rey is the one who gets to be in charge. Kylo Ren is very into it.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Master Rey

The cave is bright. Brighter than Rey thought it would be. The light reflects off of every surface. As she walks further and further past each towering column of crystals, she expects the darkness to envelop her, but it never does. Instead, the sunlight from the entrance just keeps bouncing forward, on to the next column, and the next.

Luke's broken saber hands heavy in the bag at her side, hitting her thigh with each step. Failure. The best teacher. But failure left bruises. Worse than just the bruise of a bouncing bag. The deeper kind, the sickness inside that grows with every hesitant breath. _Failure._ It's what she calls herself, too often. Her fists clenching in her sleep each night. Awakening to half-moon circles on each palm, again. Luke is gone. It is finished. And yet, each morning, she awakens.

She knows, now, what to do. Where to go. The cave called to her. Somewhere deep in her abdomen, she felt a pull. _Keep going_ , it said. _Deeper._

She imagines what Luke would have told her, if he were here. She reaches, without thinking, for the crumbled saber in the bag at her side. She paws at the pieces as she walks, deeper and deeper, into the cave. How can she turn these crumbled hunks of metal, into light and hope again? When all feels lost?

The light is slipping at last, like a sleepy sunset. The columns cast shadows, pink and gray, over the dusty surface of the cave walls. She stops to catch her breath. She feels the pull in her abdomen again. _Deeper._ And on she walks.

The further she walks, the more the pull changes. Twists inside her, like a kneading. A distant whisper of a voice she's heard before. The light begins to falter, flicker like a fading flashlight battery. She narrows her eyes. She knows this feeling. But it cannot be. Not here. Not now.

Deep in the cave, in the darkness, she sees it. The pink shadows cast on the walls have faded into blood red. A figure dressed in black stands hunched in the shadows. He moves with careful quickness, hard at his work. A red Kyber crystal illuminates his station. She feels her breath catch in her throat.

This fucking asshole again.

“Hey,” she calls. It echoes through the cave walls like the thin caw of a canary. She repeats it again, louder, lower. “Hey!”

He lifts himself up, but does not turn. He squares his shoulders. He knows it's her.

“Kylo Ren,” she says, her voice at once commanding. “Face me! Coward.”

She sees that his shoulders are trembling, ever so slightly. He turns, so slow. As the corner of his left eye reveals itself to her, she sees it. Senses it. He wants to face her. But there's something else. Could it be... fear?

She takes another step forward. Then another. He does not move. As she nears him, she sees in the red glare of the light that his lightsaber, too, is in pieces before him. He is defenseless. Just like her.

She feels her body relax, her stomach fill with warm satisfaction. He should fear her. He doesn't know whether she poses a threat. He knows the last time he saw her saber, it was in pieces. But he doesn't know whether she has rebuilt it. He only knows that he has no saber of his own. He is weak. He is vulnerable. He is hers.

And yet, he is not. Because, she too, has no lightsaber to bring to hand. She narrows her eyebrows. How to proceed...

“What are you doing here?” she asks, at last.

“I could ask you the same,” he murmurs. He avoids her eyes. “How did you find me?”

She steps back. The pull in her abdomen. The connection that Snoke forced upon them. The shadow of it still remains. She takes another step back, watching him. His eyes automatically flicker up to hers. He feels it, too. The pulling, tightening. She smirks.

“I think you know the answer to that,” she says. “Same way we always find each other.”

He nods. His eyes look dark, helpless. He casts them downwards again.

“Why are you rebuilding your lightsaber?” she asks.

At once, he turns back towards his work. “Leave me be,” he growls. He picks back up his tools. She smiles to herself. His hands are shaking. He's trying to cover for it. But he's terrified.

She strides up to him and grabs his shoulder, barking, “Tell me!” She feels his muscles tense under her grip, thrilling at the way his sinews tremble.

He meets her gaze again, his lip trembling. “I can't...” He pulls his shoulder away from her grasp. But not too fast.

She moves in closer, her nose inches from his. “Tell me!”

They heave in breaths. His eyelashes flutter. He meets her gaze. “I felt... something. This cave, maybe. Something calling out to me.” He draws back from her, his eyes steely once more. “It's none of your concern.”

Rey snarls. “The actions of a war criminal are my concern!”

“I'm not a war criminal,” he spits.

“Tell that to the families of the people you've murdered,” she throws back. “Tell that to your own family!”

“How dare you?!” he screams, whirling towards her, reaching for the lightsaber at his side. But it's not there. His belt is empty. He hesitates, thrown for a moment. Within that icy second, Rey grabs his arm, whirls him to the floor and pins him, her legs spread across his midsection, her hands at his throat. 

He looks up at her. A moment passes between them, thick and uncertain. She shifts her weight ever so slightly.

“I could take you back to my ship right now,” she says, her voice softer than she intended. She hardens her tone. “I'll deliver you to the Resistance in chains.”

“Oh, you brought chains?” he asks. He's smirking now.

She smacks him across the face.

He coughs. Lifts his head. His lip shines bright with blood. “Thank you for that.”

“Fuck off,” she says. She spits in his face, readjusting the grip of her legs around his lower midsection. And then she feels it. Is that...?

“What the fuck?” she exclaims, reeling back. “Are you... turned on by this?” 

She feels his whole body shiver beneath her. He won't meet her eyes, his upper lip suddenly slick with sweat. He's not going to answer. But she feels it – his penis throbbing beneath her, probing her upper thigh. She squeezes her legs tighter around him, almost instinctively.

“That's disgusting,” she exclaims “You're disgusting.” And yet she, too, feels the blood rushing between her own legs, the moistening of her clit, against her better nature. Fuck. Why is this hot? This is not supposed to be hot. He's a criminal! He killed his father! Fuck, fuck, fuck. She tightens her grip. 

That doesn't help.

The pause between them lasts too long. He looks up at her. He's noticed that she hasn't moved. If it's so disgusting, then why hasn't she moved? He allows himself a small smile. She looks back at him. She bites her lip, thinking. 

He cautiously lifts a hand, stretching it out to touch her face, tender.

She smacks it down. “Don't you dare, you piece of shit.”

She feels his penis get ever harder in response. _Ah. So that's how it is._ She smiles a little. She looks at him. In his eyes, she sees the fear – and the hope – of a hate-fuck.

She cracks her knuckles, then cracks her neck. “You are not even remotely ready for this,” she tells him. “You think you know what's coming. But you don't.”

“I'm pretty sure I do,” he says.

She smacks him again. “You don't, shitpile!”

He shakes his head, chuckling softly. “That was good.”

“You want another one?” She grabs his jaw, hard. “You want another?”

“Please, master,” he says. It's automatic.

She freezes, her hand still poised in the air for the next strike. _He's done this before._

At once, Rey feels the wash of pity. Who did this to him? Commander Snoke? Some other master...?

Kylo Ren looks up at her, his eyes glistening. So tender, so hopeful. “Please,” he begs, his voice a hoarse shadow of its usual resonance. This time, determined: “Master. I … need this.”

Rey squares her shoulders. She huffs out a breath. “I'll tell you what you need, you little bitch.” She strikes him across the other cheek. Instantly, his body relaxes beneath hers. He shudders, letting out an almost imperceptible moan.

She puts her hands around his neck and tightens. “You like this?” He nods. “Good, because you deserve it,” she spits at him. “You filthy murderer. You ...” The words catch in her throat and she feels her grip loosen. He _is_ a murderer. This isn't just some sexy game. _Fuck._ He's literally a murderer.

He looks up at her, his eyes questioning. “I deserve it,” he repeats, prompting her. “Master.”

She looks back down at him, tightening her thighs once again around his waist. She cocks her head. “You are so fucked up,” she says. It's not part of the flirtation. It's just a fact. 

He smiles at her, as though conceding her point. “Yes, Master.”

“How did you get like this?”

“Obeying orders, Master.”

“Well, you've been obeying some stupid fucking orders,” she shoots back.

“Yes, Master.”

She scowls at him. She pulls his wrists down, pinning them at his sides, secured underneath her thighs. “Don't you dare move,” she commands. “Yes, Master,” he whispers. Rey looks down into his eyes. He looks so young, so soft, a shadow of the man who once had attempted to command her, to control her mind. She reaches into his, probing gently at first. She feels no resistance there. He wants this. He needs this. She leans down over him.

“You sick fuck,” she whispers. He shudders again beneath her, his body tensing with anticipation. “You sick little bastard. You love this.”

“Yes,” he purrs. “Yes, Master, I love it.”

“You've dreamed of this, haven't you,” she says to him.

“Yes, Master,” he says, “Every night. And every day.” He tries to move his right hand out from underneath her thigh. She feels his penis pulsing against her left butt cheek. She shakes her head, using her leg to pin his hands even closer against his sides.

“Oh, no, you don't,” she says. “That's for good padawans. And you, Kylo Ren, have not been good. Not even close.”

She smacks him across the face again. He cries out. She probes in his mind, just barely, and senses the fireworks. He's loving this. She feels the insides of the crotch of her leggings have grown slick with lubrication. She's loving this, too. Despite herself.

She leans down over his face. He stares up at her, hungry.

“Master,” he says, “May I please kiss you?”

“Yes,” she says. He tries to lift his neck. She reaches out her index finger and pushes down on the middle of his forehead. “No. Not on the mouth.” He shivers again.

She removes her belt and harness. She tosses them to one side. She slides her body down his, her own crotch rubbing ever so slightly against his in the process. He cries out, his eyes rolling upwards towards the ceiling of the cave. She chuckles. She undoes his belt, slides his shirt over his head. He allows it, dutifully returning his arms to his sides again once his chest is bare. Rey undoes his pants next, sliding them slowly down his thighs, over his knees, down to his ankles. She looks up at him.

“Master,” he says, his voice soft. “May I kiss you yet?”

“Not yet,” she says. “Don't be greedy.”

He nods. “Forgive me, Master.”

She looks down at his erection, vibrating up towards the ceiling. _Don't be greedy._ Ha ha ha. She slides her body over his again, letting the tip of his penis brush against her clitoris, which is still swaddled in leggings. She rubs against him a second time, a third time. She allows herself a sigh of pleasure.

“Master--” he starts.

“Shut up,” she barks.

“Please,” he moans. “Let me...”

She stands up and looks down at him. “Put your hands behind your head.”

He complies, wordless.

Rey reaches for her harness. She pulls off a piece of climbing rope, steps forward, and wraps it around his wrists. “Now you won't pose a threat anymore,” she huffs at him. He smiles at her, almost breaking character. “Of course not, Master,” he says.

“I said, shut up,” Rey retorts. She tightens the rope. He gasps, but softly. She smiles down at him, then stands again.

“Close your eyes,” she says. He obliges.

She removes her tunic, then peels off her leggings. She shivers slightly in the cold of the cave. In the moment before she mounts him once more, she looks down at his face. So smooth, so innocent. Ben Solo. She feels her heart catch in her throat.

She reaches out with her mind again. _Is this all right?_

_Yes,_ he answers. _But please. Let me kiss you..._

Rey smirks. She straddles his shoulders, her crotch inches from his mouth. “Open your eyes,” she commands. “Do your work, padawan.”

He opens his eyes, sees her clit staring him in the face. He looks up at her. He smiles. “Yes, Master.”

He lifts his tied hands back over his head, towards her breasts. She knocks them out of the way. “Bad padawan.” She moves her crotch closer to his face; he parts his lips in anticipation. At last, his tongue connects. She moans. Slowly, but with experienced certainty, he finds his rhythm. She feels him probe her with his mind. _Is this good?_

She nods. “Keep going, worm,” she says, her voice catching in her throat. “Keep... going...”

As his tongue darts back and forth over her clit, she pulses forward, thrusting herself at him. She feels him moan in pleasure underneath her. She looks down at his tied hands, stretched above his head. He obeyed her. What a simpering idiot. She mashes her clit against his tongue even harder. Fuck. Yes. A moan escapes her lips, unbidden, and she feels her body pulsate. He's done it. That piece of shit. He made her come.

She pulls her crotch away from his mouth and lower herself onto his penis. He cries out in ecstatic surprise, his hips thrusting up to meet hers, instinctive. She grabs his shoulders, steadying herself as she pulses up and down.

“Don't you move a muscle,” she growls at him. “This is my game, padawan.”

“Yes,” he gasps, “Yes, Master!” He's trying to hold his hips still. But he can barely do it. He shudders. She forces herself to move slow. Steady. Up and down.

“You don't deserve any of this,” she tells him.

“I don't, Master,” he responds, his eyes bright, his breath ragged.

“You don't deserve this, either,” she says, a hoarse whisper now, as she leans down to him. Their mouths connect, hungry. She angles her hips downward, pulling him deeper inside her with each thrust. Her tongue probes against his. Her mind still searching. _Still good?_ His shoulders tremble; his bound hands rubbing against one another in nervous excitement. _So good._

“This is it,” she cries, her thrusts growing faster with each word. “You don't deserve this. So... this... is... it.”

“Master,” he pleads. “Please...” He reaches out with his mind. _I don't deserve... this..._

She knows what he needs. She wraps her hands around his neck, tightening. She grins down at him. “You're going to die just like this. It's what you get. You fucking rat.”

His eyes shine, his lips parted. _Thank... you..._

She feels him grow inside her, the last rush of blood before he finishes. She's already finished; she lets him have it. She thrusts her way through it. She feels him burst, deep inside her, the pulsing rhythm as he comes. He cries out. “Master, Master!” She lets go of his neck, grabbing his biceps, steadying herself for the final thrust.

They both sigh, disbelieving. She lets her body collapse onto his, her hair spread over his chest.

She reaches out into his mind. _So... that's how you like it?_

_You liked it, too._

She lifts her head, looks at him. “Shut up, padawan.”

He's still basking. He sighs a small sigh.

She stands up. He looks up at her, surprised.

She turns her back on him, pulling on her leggings, then her tunic. She straps on her belt, puts her bag back over her shoulder. She feels him probe into her mind. She closes it out.

“This never happened,” she says, not turning around. “I came to this cave to get a new Kyber crystal. I never saw you.” She turns back around to face him, repeating, “This never happened.”

He looks up at her. He nods, slow. She sees his eyes have gone dark again.

She looks down at him. He looks so diminutive now. His tied hands. He's naked, flaccid. She lets herself meet his gaze.

“When next we meet,” she says. “I expect you to be better behaved, Padawan.”

In that split second, she sees his face relax. Almost the flicker of a smile. She turns, then, and strides away.

“Yes, Master.” His voice echoes in the cave behind her, a whisper at her shoulders as she walks back towards the sunlight, the remnants of the broken lightsaber bouncing at her thigh.


End file.
